Too Much - Satori Shakoor

 

Six years ago, when they closed my mother's casket, I was devastated. I knew I would never be the same again. It was the day after Thanksgiving, and I could find little to be thankful for. I remembered holding her hand in the hospital and my sister the other, when the doctor told us there was no hope, that the ovarian cancer had spread and it would be cruel to keep her on life support.

 

Well, my mind froze in resistance to the news. I wasn't prepared to lose my mother yet. I had no concept of life without her in it. She was my mother, my teacher, my friend. I was so angry I couldn't control the outcome that I lashed out at the doctor and blame. And that's when I heard my mother's voice cut straight through my emotion. "Well, Doctor, I just want to thank you, because y'all sure was nice to me. Thank you." Two words my mother taught me in childhood. And I watched that doctor's face change from failure to success in a nanosecond. And then I looked at my mother like something I'd never seen before. How deep did she have to dig to elevate his bedside manner over saving her life? 

 

And then she told my sister and me to go down to the gift shop and get one of them big thank you cards. "You know, the funny kind. I got a lot of people to thank." Well, the only thing that I took from her modest estate was her wig. And I smelled it every day until the smell was gone. Now, I'm an actor, and I've been trained that the show must go on. And at the time, I was working in a show called Menopause the Musical in Detroit, and my mother loved coming to see that show. And the show did go on. But sometimes I wore my pajamas under my costume. And the women in the cast, they were amazing, and I had great support, but there was nothing that could prepare me for the death of my son nine months later.

 

He died from a massive seizure as a result of a brain injury that he-- that happened in a car accident some years before. And when I kissed him goodbye, I was shocked at how cold his skin felt against my lips. And when they closed his casket, I died. I was a dead thing. When I looked at the rest of my life, it looked like a joyless chore to live. 

And I-- [sobs] I was traveling, performing, winning awards, and I felt nothing except relief that I was in England on Thanksgiving with no reminders that the day before would have been his 24th birthday. And had he been alive, I would have missed it. Well, I knew I needed help when I collapsed in the men's department of Macy's when I saw a mannequin dressed in something he might have worn. 

 

So, I joined a grief support group. And I cried and screamed and I talked and I listened through the stages of grief, denial, depression, anger, acceptance, and finally, hope. I was so grateful to feel my feelings again. I didn't care what I felt. I wanted to live. I wanted to connect with my life. But I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know how or where to start. Well, I'm menopausal. I'm going through the change. So, I didn't really have to worry about where to start. [audience chuckle] And there's a wisdom to menopause. And sometimes it can catch your body and your mind off guard. Well, I was in Kroger's [audience chuckle] in the vegetable department when my hormones just went out of whack. It was like somebody flipped the switch. And all of a sudden, I'm lusty as hell. [audience chuckle] 

 

I'm talking about hot like a 15-year-old boy, hot like Halle Berry in Monster's Ball on the Fourth of July. Because if it was me in that movie, I would have fornicated with Billy Bob Thornton and his racist daddy too. [audience laughter] And I look up and I see this man and he is so fine. I'm like, "Damn, he looked good in that motorized wheelchair." [laughter and applause] I mean, he looked like one of those murder ball guys in that basketball documentary. I was just about to go over and introduce myself when I saw the flash of his wedding ring. So, I turned my attention to the zucchini. [audience laughter] And after that I just started seeing zucchini everywhere. I was surprised because I thought that when vaginal dryness met erectile dysfunction, it would be a perfect match. [audience chuckle] "I don't want to. You can't. Hey." [audience laughter]

 

I thought-- I thought I would be content to just coast, have a little fun till I reached the promised land of dried-up eggs and freedom from maxi pads. Now, I was happy to be complacent, have okay life, okay, man. You know, book a cruise, wear matching outfits, and get fat at the all-you-can-eat buffet. Instead, I'm flashing truckers on I-75 in Trumbull in Detroit. [audience chuckle] I mean, I didn't even recognize myself. This is not me. I'm a political junkie. I pride myself on keeping up on current events. I didn't realize how lonely I was, you know, how in need of a man's touch. And when I couldn't take it anymore, I went shopping for some stilettos. It was time to get me a man. So, I went on Craigslist [audience laughter] because, well, Craigslist deliver right now. [chuckles] And I spotted an ad that seemed sane to my sensibilities. "Good looking, educated, house, car, job, gentleman at all times, seeks mature lady for drinks, great conversation, and a possible relationship."

 

So, I programmed my GPS for Tom's Oyster Bar. I ain't going to say my standards were low walking in. Let's just say they were specific. If the man looked halfway decent and had a pulse, we get naked tonight. [laughter and applause] Now, I'm hoping that the bad boy with the sideburns at the end of the bar is him. And I get down there and that man looked good to me. Those luscious lips, those bedroom eyes, that big, juicy Jewish nose. He looked like a Slurpee sitting on a bar stool. [audience chuckle] He said, "Oh my God, you're much more than I expected. You're beautiful. And I was hoping to meet a black woman." And I said, "Oh, why?" 

 

He said, "I don't know. Something different than black, than white skin, exotic." Now, exotic is a racist buzzword for me, but it didn't sound racist coming from him, just sounded honest. So, I felt comfortable being honest myself. And I said, "Well, I like Jewish men and I like Italian men that look Jewish. [laughter and applause] But to be quite honest, I'm open to men of all races, long as they got a big schnozzle." [audience chuckle] And whenever I see a big banana nose, it makes me want to break out in a Jewish Negro spiritual. [audience chuckle] I mean, what did I have to lose being myself? So, he laughed. I sat down at the bar, and we engaged in some stimulating conversation.

 

Now, I'm surprised because he's telling me real things about his life, his real name. Now, at this point, my identity is hidden because after all, he is a Craigslist date. No, he's telling me about three generations ago, his Russian Jewish family coming to America, starting a successful business, that he's an artist, studied in Italy, and now he deals in collectibles and antiques. And I'm hanging on every word, but I'm distracted by all that juicy fruit on his face. But I'm a woman. I can multitask. I can do two things at once. I can listen to his life story and want to suck his lips off his face at the same time. [audience chuckle] So, then we put our cards on the table. "Why did you answer my ad?" And I told him about my long journey from grief. And I told him how my hormones went out of whack and I was here to have a bang up, good old time. 

 

He said, "Well, sex is important to me, too. And I can think of all kind of things to do with you, but I'm open for a relationship, and you look worthy of a relationship to pursue." Now, my heart stirred at the word relationship, but that should have been a red flag, because relationship is a distraction, especially if you're just coming for one thing. And relationship is like a woman trap. It's a storefront of promises that you can't keep. And I wasn't sure whether I was ready for a relationship, whether I wanted to open up my heart and love and lose again. So, when he asked me did I want to come back to his house to see his African art collection, I said, "Yeah." [audience laughter]

 

So, we get to his house, and it's like this whimsical folk-art museum. Art all over the walls. He said, "Go on upstairs. Take a look around." I get upstairs to his bedroom, and there's all these framed concert posters. And one wall, it said, "Parliament Funkadelic. Brides of Funkenstein, Paris, France, 1979." I said, "That's me." He said, "Oh, yes. That's one of my most valuable posters. That's my favorite group." I said, "No, you don't understand. I'm one of the Brides of Funkenstein. I used to sing with Parliament Funkadelic. I was there." [audience laughter] He said, "No [beep sound]." I said, "Yeah [beep sound]." So, we look at each other like we both struck gold. [audience chuckle] And he takes me downstairs and serenades me on his guitar. And we both decided, well, I decided I'm going to keep my panties up. Check this out for a few days. [audience laughter]

 

Few days later, we made love. And it was amazing. I mean, I-- every cell of my body felt connected to him. I mean, my screams felt like I was releasing grief and embracing joy. It was just magical. And the first month, we hit a wrinkle, ironed it out. Second month, I was, like, all over my-- wanted them all the time. "Ooh, I just want to make your dreams come true." We hit a bump, worked it out. Third month, I said, "Well, do you want to come over my sister's house for Thanksgiving?" He said, "I want to be by myself on Thanksgiving. Satori, you're too much for me. You're too intense. You're too analytical. You talk too much. And I've never met anybody who wants to share all of her feelings. I can't handle a girlfriend right now." Well, at first, his words, they hurt, you know? It took the wind out of my sails. But then I knew he was telling the truth. Because I understand complacency. I recognize it as a welcome respite, on the way to peace and joy. I recognized that complacency can do nothing more than hope. And I thought, “Wow.” It hit me. I'm too much. I'm way more alive. And so, grief had taught me how to lose and how to live and how to-- when.

 

So, I told him, "Thank you. Thank you very much. I appreciate your honesty, and-- [sobs] I appreciate your honesty, and you have given me so much." And I thought of those two words that my mother taught me. Thank you. And I told him, "But just so you know," because he wanted to be my friend, he said, "I want to be your friend. I'm your biggest fan." I said, "Just so you know, if I come across as being too much, you have my mother, my son, and my raging hormones to thank, because I'm going for being way too much. I'm going for being over the top, alive. I'm going for kissing the lips off the face of life and everybody in it, because I'm alive. So, thank you very much."